


A Scavenger, Not a Hoarder

by rakefire



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (Or at least they're trying to be), (everything else is consensual), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, BWP (Ben (Solo) with (a) Purpose), Ben and Rey Being Adults, Dubious Decluttering, Enemies to Lovers to 'Enemies' to Lovers, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hoarder Rey, Implied/Referenced Bad Childhood, Implied/Referenced Past Relationship(s), Marie Kondo AU, Minimalist Ben Solo, Praise Kink, Relationship Disagreements, Sexual Content, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, based on a tweet, everything is fine, it's complicated - Freeform, moving in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-10-17 10:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17558951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rakefire/pseuds/rakefire
Summary: Ben Solo asked his girlfriend of three months to move in with him, and she said yes.Poor guy doesn't know what's waiting for him.





	1. Together Teal the End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [persimonne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/persimonne/gifts).



> I saw [this tweet](https://twitter.com/persimonne666/status/1089213037612019712?s=09)? And then it just happened? I'm sorry? (lol not really)
> 
> Thank you to my amazing beta, [howsolocanyougo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/howsolocanyougo). I don't know if I can pull this off without her help. :')
> 
> Happy (belated) Valentine's to you all! (　◕‿◕✿)

 

 

He didn’t know. He really didn’t.

He’s known her for almost three years. They’ve been in a blissful relationship for three months. And yet, he didn’t know.

Not even after they became friends six months ago, after the tension became too palpable and neither could pretend to hate each other anymore. Not even after that night when he dropped her in front of her apartment after her bicycle had been stolen. Not even after their first (official) date when he finally kissed her on her doorstep. Not even after the second one when he made her come in his car before she ran back to her place because it was raining (he insisted on giving her his umbrella but she was too eager to get out of the car, flushing deeply). Not even after...

He should’ve known there was a reason why she never actually invited him upstairs. Ever since the first time they had sex, after a long day of work (when the clandestine flirting through their public faux fights was no longer bearable—or honestly, _believable),_ she was always over at his house. Nothing to complain about there. He likes it when she’s at his place, in his bed, preferably wearing nothing.

That’s been their routine for three months now. A week ago, he has asked her to move in. And today…

Today is the first time she lets him into her place. And that’s… well, something, for sure.

“Um,” she shyly peers at him, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “It’s a bit cluttered.”

_A bit cluttered, sweetheart, is the understatement of the century._

But he bites back his words. His eyes widen as they scan what’s supposedly her living room. Cramped with so many boxes stacked with more stuff sticking out from the top. He swears he hears something squeak somewhere.  _Rats?_

They have less than a week to sort their belongings before the moving company collects her stuff and their households combine. He had offered to help her but—no surprises there—she kept saying she could do it by herself. Yesterday, she finally relented and let him help her. And he was elated.

This is supposed to be the first domestic thing they do as a live-in couple. As sexy roommates. He  _wants_  this. He’s wanted them to have a life together ever since he realized that he could get used to having her by his side. And now it’s real.

“Are you sure?” he remembers her shock after he popped the question. Her eyes were bugged out, “Us? Moving in? Isn’t that too fast?”

That was also what his mother had told him. _Three months in and you’re getting carried away,_ she’d said. _She’s a good girl, but I think you need to wait._

But he had been waiting for far too long for something to really happen between them. Two years of knowing her as a co-worker (well, _technically,_  he was her boss until a few weeks ago—HR’s decision), and during that time, all they did was bicker. It wasn’t until he found out that she shared the same feelings that he decided to act on his. So then, he was…

“I’m sure,” he nodded at her, grinning. “I want us to live together. But… of course, if you don’t want to, we can wait—”

“I’d love to! I—I love you, Ben. I want to live with you.”

He remembered how happy she looked, and how his heart had swelled. She does love him, _and nothing else matters._

 _It would be so easy, so much better._  He’s going to see her a lot more often. He’s going to wake up every morning with her by his side, and go to bed together. And go to _bed_ together. Her belongings can go wherever she wants—hell, she can re-decorate as she wants. He’s got a house big enough for both of them.

Ben Solo, being himself, doesn’t have a lot of furniture. He’s used to moving from place to place since he was little due to his mother’s job as a diplomat. He taught himself to not get attached to material things—and as he grew up, he had no inclination to get attached to any person either. That is, until Rey Jackson came along.

She’s the sun and thousands of flowers. Freckles and tanned skin, bright hazel eyes and chestnut hair. A radiating smile that lights up his world. She dresses in colors and patterns, as opposed to his black, dark gray—sometimes midnight blue, and white. She likes cute little things which Ben almost always finds useless.

It was the first time he felt like he belonged to something—to someone. He started decorating his house with flowers and trinkets so she’d like staying there. Because Rey is everything to him.

But of all the things Ben has imagined her to be, this is _not_ one of them.

 _This_ being a fucking hoarder.

“Ben?” her voice brings him back to the present. “Are you okay?”

He purses his lips and blinks, shoving his meaty hands into his too-small jean pockets. Suddenly his throat feels constricted.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles. He’s not.

“Okay,” Rey tilts back her head. He notices that she looks a bit worried. She bites her lower lips and crinkles her nose. A pretty girl like her— _how could a pretty girl like her…_

“Like I told you,” she continues, walking past—no, prancing from one spot to another like the floor is a goddamn river and she’s stepping on rocks to go to the other side of the room. “I have a lot of stuff, and uh, it might take a while to sort them out. I mean, I kinda already did, but you know. Please sit down, I can get you a drink.”

“Sure,” he breathes, wondering what this place looked like before she ‘kinda already did’ tidy it up.

It takes a moment, but he finally finds the couch. He thinks. It’s a leather couch sitting a few feet from him, but one would not know because it’s draped with clothing—which Rey quickly scoops up and takes to the other room (is she dumping them? It’s unclear if they’re clean). As he sits, his ass hits something hard jutting between the cushions. It’s a book—one of many piled on the couch. Looking around, there are books everywhere.

 _Literally_ everywhere.

Rey is well-read, he knows this. A bright woman who’s not only stolen his heart since their first meeting in the Takodana Hotel’s lobby, but also managed to be his frustratingly cunning equal who always keeps him on his toes. It’s obvious that she’s a nerd like him—one couldn’t work as a successful software engineer if they aren’t at least spending most of their university life cranking up books and Red Bull’s in the library.

And he has imagined her on her couch, wearing an oversized sweatshirt and leggings with her hair in her usual three buns, biting a pencil while concentrating on her reading. It’s a nice picture. He’s imagined her that way a lot when they were still ‘enemies’, when his mind wandered to what she’d be doing on a Sunday morning. He just… he just didn’t know that the state of her home would be like this.

Making himself comfortable in what little space remained on that poor couch, he marvels at his surrounding like her living room is a jungle worthy of Sir David Attenborough’s narration.

 _I’m here surrounded by one of the nature’s greatest wonders,_ he mimics inwardly. _A living structure so chaotic it’s nearly impassable without a guide: Rey Jackson’s apartment._

In front of him, a coffee table is crowded with old copies of _The New Yorker_ (two of them are splayed open to the crossword pages), scented candles, CDs of some bands he likes (they have similar taste in music), Space Wars funko pops (she loves the sequel trilogy—similar taste in movies), and takeout menus.

“Sorry about this,” Rey says as she puts down a can of beer on top of last month’s _New Yorker._  “I’ve been doing some decluttering, but couldn’t find the time to actually finish it.”

He nods silently, while opening the can and taking a swig. He needs this.

“I asked Finn and Rose to help, actually, but after I told them that you wanted to help,” she sighs and then rolls her eyes. “They told me they didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Maybe because I’m still their boss?” he smirks. Rey chuckles.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Or maybe not. Because now Ben understands why Finn Pentecost suddenly came up to him last Monday, tapping his shoulder and looking at him in the eye with a weird look Ben couldn’t explain before muttering, “Good luck.”

Now he knows what the look meant.

Ben scoots over as Rey sits down right next to him. The couch is too cramped for both of them, but he likes it when she’s close to him. He takes her hand which is rubbing her knee nervously, and gives it a squeeze.

“Shall we start, baby?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ben Solo is a neat person. So unlike her.

She’s known this ever since they were still at each other’s throats. There’s something about the guy. The way he dresses, the way he carries himself with a tiny bit elitism that sometimes slips out of him unawares—he’s just that kind of guy.

Sometimes Rey wonders how they got together in the first place.

Well, one answer: he’s fucking hot. Okay, two: he’s very good at what’s he does and _that’s_ fucking hot.

Even though he annoyed her when they were still ‘enemies,’ Rey has always valued his opinions more than most. The man knows his shit, although sometimes he can come off pretentious and too academic. He can also come off as rude sometimes, like that one time when he told her that she needed a teacher and that _he_ was the only one who could do that—on the  _first_ day they met.

He’s a lot to take in (no pun intended). But she likes him.

No—she  _loves_ that fool.

And she wants to live with him. Now she will.

Rey had never imagined herself settling down. And yet, with Ben, she often surprises herself with the impulsive—and borderline reckless—decisions she makes whenever he’s involved. She kissed him first and let him fuck her against the wall in his office—unprotected. She can’t remember now what prompted that. Maybe she’s always fancied him. Like, really fancied him.

Because as the jerk that he sometimes is, Benjamin Solo is really her type. Tall, dark, handsome. Raven hair, electrifying gaze, long and big everything—like, _everything_. And he’s got a thing with control (something she never admitted turned her on even before they got together). He’s frustrating in the way that’s just right.

But even prior to dating, Rey knew that Ben was kind of a neat freak. He doesn’t like mess—or anything with colors. And when she stepped (well, was carried bridal style) into his apartment that first time, she knew that he was just… one of _those_ people.

Minimalists.

And Rey is the opposite of that. She understands the philosophy—especially since Ben has mentioned it in passing (usually in regard to her messy work desk, which she did deliberately on more than one occasion just to see him flip his shit), but she just can’t imagine living that kind of life. She didn’t even know anyone who was really into it. Not until Ben.

That’s also why she never invited him at her place—other than the fact that his townhouse is _huge_ and amazing.

But now he’s here, in her shoebox apartment. He didn’t run away like she thought he would. Instead, he’s staring at her with fondness that makes her stomach flutter and pussy clench.

“Shall we start, baby?” he asks.

She nods.

They move the coffee table to the side and start with the nearest pile. Rey has a lot of stuff, she knows. Growing up without so many necessities, no sense of home, it should be no surprise that as an adult with a steady income and place to call her own, she bought and held on to everything. Most of her stuff is not expensive or new, but she likes decorating her own place with things she’s wanted to have ages ago. It’s a control thing. She’s her own person in her own home surrounded by her own stuff—independence at its best.

It wasn’t until the idea of moving in together came up that she _really_ considered decluttering.

“This is our place now,” she remembers Ben telling her that night after she said yes. “It’s no longer just me. We’ll make this place ours.”

She told him that his house would look _different_ once she lives there, too. But he just laughed. “It better,” he whispered.

Thus, a few days ago, Rey started her mission to declutter. She didn’t want Ben’s help because she wanted to make her house at least presentable before he stepped in. But coming home exhausted after long days, the desperation of not being able to get rid much of anything grew and grew, so she let him.

Thankfully, Ben hasn’t said or done anything indicating he has a problem with her stuff. In fact, he paces around, peeking into stacked boxes she’s compiled and smiles when he discovers stuff he finds amusing.

“I didn’t know you bake,” he says, lifting a set of sealed cookie cutters from one of the boxes. She doesn’t. She wanted to learn how to bake, but her job always comes first. Just another thing she never got around to.

Rey returns his smile with a coy shrug, her eyes following him around.

“Austen?” his face lights up as he takes an old copy of _Pride and Prejudice_. He puts aside the book to look inside the box. “All Austen’s?”

“I got that from a used bookstore in Jakku, but the rest is from different places,” she replies while approaching him. “And this is my Austen box.”

“Hmm,” he caresses the stubble on his chin. “What else do you got?”

“Brontë box is over there,” she points to another box. “That one is Wilde’s and Shelley’s—Mary, I mean, duh. And then… uh, that one is my Young Adult collection—don’t judge.” She narrows her eyes at him, “I know you can’t stand John Green’s writing, but I think it’s touching.”

“The one you showed me isn’t exactly touching. It’s depressing.”

“Says someone who calls _Jude the Obscure_ a ‘delightful’ reading.”

Ben chuckles and raises his hands in surrender. Rey bites her lips to hide her smile as he slides his arm on her waist and drags her closer.

He kisses the top of her head. “I know these are your favorite authors. It must be difficult to get rid of them.”

Rey hums in approval before the words really sink in. “What?”

“These books,” he says into her hair, his body swaying hers like they’re almost dancing—it’s just his thing. “It must be hard to let them go. I remember when I have to let go of my Dickens—”

“What? No no no no,” she pulls away. “I’m not letting these go.”

Ben freezes for a moment.  _“What?”_

“These,” Rey gestures to the boxes. “I’m keeping these.”

His eyebrows shoot up. _“All_ the boxes?”

“Well, not _all.”_

He sighs in relief. “Okay, good. I thought you would…,” he laughs. “Alright. Um. Which ones do you want to keep? I think we need to separate them.”

“Only the ones with teal Post-It’s,” she replies. “I’m getting rid the orange ones.”

Ben nods and then looks around. But then, after a while, he looks at her again, his face scrunches up.

“Rey,” he says. “They’re all teal.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this spark joy? lol.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> The Sir David Attenborough bit is stolen from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mtYjOfg6jKE&t=69s) with a bit modification.  
> If you want to imagine how Rey's apartment would look like, just think of Leslie Knope's house in [season 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QV7-v64ZkTA), but smaller. (´ｖ｀)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> My [tumblr](https://rakefiree.tumblr.com)  
> My [twitter](https://twitter.com/rakefired)


	2. Tooth and Nail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Rey are cleaning her house, but somehow things get filthier. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the grammatical error and general cringiness you're about to see is all mine. I've apologized to my beta, and now to persimonne and anyone who reads this lol.
> 
> **their age gap is the same as canon.

 

Ben’s eyes roam over the room once again; he slows his breathing like he does every time he’s trying to calm down. He blinks, and the teal Post-It’s are still there, sticking on the cardboard boxes like some sad end of the year clearance sale.

Except Rey said she’s not getting rid of them.

“I’m not keeping _all_ of them,” she adds, and then points at one of the boxes. “There. That one is orange.”

Ben pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s it?”

“No,” she sounds defensive. “That one over there is also orange—Ben, are you judging me?”

He staggers back. “No. Why would I? I just want to see which of the boxes we should move to our house.”

She stares at him, looking unconvinced. “Well, okay,” she says. “I was just thinking about the empty library you have. It’s a library, Ben. I don’t know why it’s empty.”

“I went all digital last year. Donated everything.”

“I know that, but why? Don’t you want to—” she takes one of the books closer to her nose. “—inhale the sweet smell of the books?” She tilts her head to him, winking while waving it under his nose. “Don’t you?”

He rolls his eyes, but breaks into a sheepish grin anyway. He takes the book from her hand and then puts it back in the box. “But some of these are falling apart. Look, this one doesn’t even have a front cover.”

She sighs, “I know. I’ve always known I’d have to throw them away at some point.”

He raises his eyebrow. _Well, isn’t that easy?_

“If that’s the case then,” Ben puts his hands on his hips. “We can start getting rid of these books—”

“No.”

_“No?”_

“No,” she shakes her head. “These books are off limits. But we can move along to the other boxes.”

Ben opens his mouth and then closes it again. _Okay,_ he thinks. _It’s fine._ He nods, admitting to himself that the books were always going to be the hardest, given how much she’s cherished reading since childhood. He won’t forget when he had to do this process to his own collection—although then, it was out of necessity because his mother’s post had suddenly changed and they were moving again.

“Alright,” he says finally. “We can get to that later. How about this one? What are you doing with all these alternative band CDs? Some of them haven’t released new music in ten years. Wait, is that Jonas Brothers? What are _they_ doing here?”

“No judgment, dad. They’re classic.”

“You mean because they’re literal CDs? And people listen to music in their phones now?”

She laughs. “No, silly. It feels different, you know, having the physical copies instead of just the digital. Like the books! Or the BluRay movies you used to have, before you gave them to Poe and Hux—which I still don’t understand, by the way.”

“I can stream any movie I want,” he shrugs. “How about this circuit board? Where did you get this? It doesn’t look… functional.”

“A kid I tutored when I was still at uni gave it to me.”

“Why are you still keeping it?”

“Because.”

“Okay,” he rummages through the box and picks another item. “How about this one? What do you need a tamagotchi for?” He clicks the device with his thumb, “It’s dead.”

“I never had a tamagotchi when I was a kid.”

“When you were a baby, you mean?” he narrows his eyes.

“Rude!” she pouts. He snorts.

“So, you have one _now?_ Why?”

“It’s cute,” she shrugs.

“It’s dead.”

 _“If_ it were alive, I’m sure it’d be cute.”

“You haven’t turned it on before?”

“I have. Once, right when I received it. But then it died within seconds.” Ben opens his mouth, about to say something, but Rey raises a finger and adds, “Since I _already_ bought it, I thought maybe I could fix it when I had the time, but then—”

“Hang on,” Ben shuts his eyes for a moment before he continues. “You got cheated, Rey. The seller must’ve known that this is complete junk.”

“It’s a used good, Ben. I got it off eBay, of course it’s not pristine. But I can fix it. Later, when I have time.”

He nods noncommittally, fighting the urge to secretly launch the tamagotchi through the window. But is that how he wants it to be? Will he be that guy who gets rid of his partner's stuff when she's not looking? Ben shakes the thought from his head. _I’ve got this. I can get through this._ They haven’t even really started going through everything yet.

He then walks—or, more accurately shuffles—between the boxes to get to his beer. As he drains it, something in the corner of the room catches his eye. “Babe,” he starts. “Is that really a big rat head or am I imagining things?”

Rey’s head pops up from behind a stack. “You’re not imagining it,” she replies. “And that is not just a rat. He’s Randy the Sand Rat, the mascot of my high school. I stole it for a dare for senior prank. We placed a bounty on the costume, and I won. Don’t worry, though. The school replaced him after I graduated. With a bloody possum. Can you imagine?”

“Why is it only the head, then?” he asks as he stares into the rat’s dead gaze. “Did you decapitate him?”

She lifts Randy from the floor and puts it on her head. “My high school friends thought it’d be funny to leave it with me,” she advances on him. “It’s dark in here, but I can still see you. Ben, babe, look at me. Don’t you think I look hot like this?”

She wiggles her hips, showing off her long legs while making the mascot head bat its eyelashes. “Beeen, kiss me—where are you going? Heyyy! Give your girlfriend a smooch. Mmm, come here.”

“No!” Ben jumps to the couch as Rey gets closer. He maneuvers away from her attack, lightly holding her wrist and pushing Randy’s head. “Take that ridiculous thing off! It smells weird!”

“Aw, come on. That’s not a nice thing to say to your girlfriend.”

“You’re not my girlfriend,” he says, feigning disdain. “You’re Chuck E. Cheese’s creepy cousin, Randy the Rando! Get off me!”

Rey giggles as she keeps pushing. She puts one foot to the couch when Ben reaches her waist and pulls her down with him with a yelp. He then positions her on his lap before removing the mascot head and abandoning it on the floor. She pulls her mussed-up strands of hair from her face, still laughing.

For a moment, their eyes lock. Her laugh dies down as he cups her cheeks, leans in, and places his lips on hers. Rey sighs against his mouth before wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders in embrace, returning the kiss.

She always feels so small to him. But the warmth that radiates from her body can set his skin aflame. They fit together so perfectly. It’s almost like cosmic intervention that they met and fell in love. _What are the odds?_

His hand presses at the junction between her neck and shoulder while his other hand runs along her torso, dipping under her t-shirt caressing her taut skin. He inhales in relief, as though all of his frustration has flown away. _This._ He wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

 _His_ girl.

She moans as his hand reaches under her bra, thumb circling her hardened nipple. He pulls back from her mouth to nip at her neck. Her fingers deep in his hair, he feels his cock twitch as she rolls herself against him. She goes slow at first, but then she gets faster. Faster. Faster.

“Rey,” he groans, tugging her shirt over her breasts and exposing her to the cool air. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”

“I know,” she chokes as he sucks at one breast and palms the other. “I can’t wait to live with you.”

He releases her with a pop. “Neither can I.”

His mind is increasingly clouded with lust and all he wants is to take her to bed. But then—but then…

...in his peripheral vision, he notices a pair of sleazy and totally dead eyes staring at him from the floor. Dirty and judgmental. _Fucking Randy!_

Ben jumps in shock, his hand accidentally squeezing Rey’s breast. “Yes, yes, Ben!” she moans.

With all the willpower he can muster, he pulls aways. “No, Rey. We can’t.”

Her brow furrows in confusion. Ben clears his throat, “Baby, we’ve still got a lot to do. The moving company—”

“Shh,” she leans in for another kiss. “Don’t ruin this.”

His eyes widen, but he doesn’t fight back. He’s still in a staring contest with the decapitated rat as she licks a stripe on his neck. When she starts to grind herself again, he loses it. He pulls her hair and kisses her deeply, abandoning Randy the Sand Rat once again.

He pulls her shirt over her head and peppers her skin with more kisses. His hands reach the seam of her shorts and flick the fly open. When his fingers dip into her panties, she throws her head back and moans.

But as much as Ben wants his ministrations to go uninterrupted, he can’t help it that his gaze is sometimes drawn to their surroundings—and to Randy—and then to the boxes—to Randy again—and then to Rey, who looks so divine with her mouth open and eyes closed, her grip on his shoulders tightened.

And looking at her like that—aroused and beautiful, the urge to really do something about their situation hits him. They need to talk.

 

* * *

 

Dating Ben is like winning the jackpot.

He likes being inside her as much as she likes having him inside. In retrospect, it was obvious that they probably ‘hated’ each other because they wanted to jump each other’s bone since day one. When they first started dating, she thought if he hadn’t been such an ass, they’d have hit it off much quicker. But then again, it was Ben’s prickly personality that got her all hot and bothered.

“Do as I say,” she remembers him saying during one of their office spats. _“Rookie.”_

His voice has always done things to her. And as much as she liked listening to him all commanding like that, it was too irresistible not to defy him. “No,” she replied, arms crossed and chin up. She remembers how his eyes glinted at her response. _Hot._

At first, their occasional public fights seemed like some malevolent attempt by Ben to sabotage her career. It became clear that it was just his personality, and increasingly they fought just to get a rise out of each other. When they started having sex, it became a form of roleplaying. It excites him as much as it excites her when they get all heated up. Because the payoff is  _huge,_ like his—

Now that they’re in the middle of decluttering— _...right?_ —, Rey finds herself hoping they'll end up in a similar situation again. Not because she wants it to devolve to ravenous lovemaking necessarily (although she won’t complain if that happens), but because she knows that combining households and lives and routines is serious business. She wants him to be honest with her. But he's been so... _nice_.

She recognizes his body language, the way the amusement drained from his face as he stared at her cluttered apartment. She notices how much he’s holding himself back. And that won't do.

Even though Rey finds it difficult to throw things away, she wants to have a conversation about it. She'll probably still keep some of her stuff, but she wants them to talk about it. The way adult couples do.

She’s known since she agreed to this endeavor that she’d need to be mindful when living together. But it's not like Ben's— _their_ —house is full of stuff in the first place. He keeps throwing things away to 'make more space.' For what? _Air?_

Rey often finds herself bewildered by how easily Ben gives his stuff away. Finn once called him a 'rich squatter living in his own big empty house' behind his back—she guiltily still finds it funny. And now that they're living together (well, they're getting there—maybe, if all this dry-humping stops anytime soon), she can't help but think about how their different lifestyles could affect their relationship.

"Sweetheart," he breathes against her shoulder. Her body jerks from the sensation as his finger traces her slit. She keeps her eyes shut and hums in response. “Can I ask you something?”

“Ah—anything.”

“Do you really want to keep all of these?” he asks, his voice low and breathy. She opens her eyes, eyebrows knitted.

“What?”

“The teal boxes,” he continues as he slowly circles her clit and she gasps, losing it again. “And Randy.”

“What’s with Randy?” she groans, pushing herself to create more friction against his hand. He exhales sharply as his eyes follow the movement of his finger inside her shorts.

“You’re so wet— _fuck,”_ he mutters before leaning close to her ear again. “I don’t trust him. He’s… filthy.”

His free hand presses her closer, and Rey rests her head on his shoulder. “Why, you don’t like competition?” she teases. “Want to be the only filthy one in this relationship?”

He chuckles, the rumbling of his voice sending shivers down her spine. “Oh, baby,” he purrs. He pushes his finger to her entrance, and proceeds to pump it inside and out of her with emphasis on every word.

“I—don’t—think—I—am—the—only—filthy—one—in— _our_ —relationship.” He kisses her nape, “My dirty girl.”

She moans and tightens her grip on his shoulders, encouraging his finger deeper inside. He adds another finger while his thumb draws circles on her clit. “What do you say, sweetheart? _No_ Randy?”

Rey nods frantically. “No Randy— _fuck_ —anything you want, baby. _Anything.”_

Suddenly, Ben pauses. She whines at the loss of stimulation, so she pulls back and finds him staring at her. Amidst the lust-addled eyes, there is something else in his expression. It’s as though he just realizes something. The corner of his mouth twitches.

 _“Anything_ I want?”

She swallows. There’s something in the way he says it, but her dumb brain is halfway to short-circuited. She nods helplessly, desperate for him move again. In an instant, his eyes gleam with something that looks like mischief. He pulls his hand from her cunt only to lift her and turn her around so her back is against his chest.

“Well,” he pulls off her shorts and panties and hooks his knees under hers, spreading her wide. His lips press to her temple. “We have a deal then?”

“What deal— _Ben!”_

All of sudden, his finger is knuckle deep inside her. She mewls, thrashing the back of her head against his shoulder. He spreads their legs wider, and there’s nothing she can do but grab at his hair and forearm—anything she can reach—as he explores her cunt. She's totally at his mercy.

And then, his finger is gone, his breath hot against her nape as his hardness presses against her. Rey cranes her neck to look at him, his darkened eyes staring back at her.

“How about these old magazines?” he asks, pointing with fingers still glistening with her arousal to the piles of New Yorker’s next to him.

Rey blinks lazily.

“Can _we_ get rid of them?”

When there’s no reply from her, he thrusts two fingers inside of her and she gasps. “Well, baby?” He flicks her nipple with his free hand, “Your answer?”

“Yes!” she squeals. “All of them!”

“Good, good girl,” he kisses her neck. “The tamagotchi?”

She groans in protest, but suddenly his fingers curve inside her and she loses her train of thought. “Fine, I’ll let you keep it if you really fix it,” he says, whispering against her ear like he’s threatening her so deliciously. “But will you, babygirl?” Another curl. “Be honest with me.”

 _Honestly?_ Rey shakes her head. “No,” she whimpers, her voice small. “I won’t.”

She can feel him smirk. Another curl. “How about the baking set? It doesn’t look like it’ll be used anytime soon. Are you _really_ going to use that? I already have one at home.”

She shakes her head again.

“Good.” He sucks the skin on her neck, followed by another curl inside of her. Then another finger, and she whines. “The old cell phones? I saw that in a little box.”

Oh. _The casket._ That’s what Finn called it. It’s a little box where Rey stores the first phone she bought and then the others that came after that. She doesn’t know why she keeps them now that she thinks of it. _Sentimental reasons?_

When there’s no answer, Ben suddenly stops and withdraws his fingers and face from her.

“Beeen,” she whines. She reaches down, but he catches her wrists and locks them in his big hand.

He clicks his tongue. “Ah-ah, what’s the answer, sweetheart?”

Rey groans. She tries to move her leg but he’s still pinning them open with his strong thighs, and in the end, she just throws herself back and huffs. “Fine. That’s out, too.”

She feels him grinning against her head before his fingers dive back with renewed vigor.

He's not letting her move and shy away from him—not that she can do any of that. Whenever she doesn't answer his questions right away, he either flicks her nipples or pulls out his fingers when she's about to come. Meanwhile, every time she makes the decision (whether to keep or let go—mostly, let go), he rewards her so nicely with kisses and a string of praises that make her spine tingle.

It seems like the wetter she gets, the fewer stuff she owns. Although strangely, she doesn't feel that bad about it.

Or maybe she is too aroused to feel anything else. 

Ben seems to really enjoy it, though. Save for his hardening cock against her ass, he _casually_ plays with her cunt while questioning her about the boxes like this is just one of their game nights as she’s helplessly writhing and babbling on his lap. He’s good. At _both_ things.

Then everything becomes a blur. 

The damaged hard drives? Trash. The broken cute little pink computer mouse she promised to fix later? Trash. Her old textbooks? Donate. The band CDs she hasn’t played in years? Donate. The empty candy tins? Trash. Blank cute notebooks she never uses? Donate. Motivational books she's never going to read? Donate. Sealed 2-dollar movies from Walmart? Donate. Last year’s Halloween costume? Donate. And so on. And so on.

And then she comes with a wail.

Rey closes her eyes, smiling blissfully as Ben sweeps the old _New Yorker_ issues off the couch and gently lays her down. When she opens her eyes, her boyfriend’s face is inches from her. She cradles it before deeply kissing his full mouth. When she pulls back, he nuzzles her neck and murmurs things to her.

She’s not really paying attention to what he’s saying, her hand already driving south to cup him. He's so hard and she gets excited again, helping undo his belt as he takes off his shirt and throws it to the floor. She licks her lips at the sight of his brickhouse of a body, knowing well sure it makes him smirk smugly. He then hunches down again, caging her, and grunts as she strokes him, mumbling something about Goodwill and The Salvation Army—and _Hux and Poe,_ for some reason _._ She hums in agreement because at this point, she just doesn’t care. She just wants him inside her. _Now._

But then, she hears him mentioning something about ‘messy’ and ‘a bunch of crap’ and the spell is broken. Rey pulls back, releasing him as her eyes search Ben’s face to make sense of what she’s heard.

“What did you just say?” she asks. Ben pauses for a moment, and then shrugs.

“You know, I think it’ll be good for us to do this regularly,” he places his face on her chest, tiny stubble on his chin rubbing against her skin as she breathes. “Maybe then the crap you leave around will at least be things you actually want to keep.”

Rey’s jaw hangs open as the words really hit her. Meanwhile, completely unaware of the change in mood, he hums as he pulls down her bra. But before he latches his mouth to her nipple, she pushes his forehead away.

“Ow! What?” he rubs his brow.

“Did you just call me messy?” she frowns. “And—and my stuff _crap?”_

He purses his lips as though thinking, but his hands reach for her breasts again so she slaps them away. “Well,” he says, sighing as Rey covers her chest with her arms. “You’re not exactly the tidiest person ever, honey.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” he sits back on his knee, gesturing their surroundings. “Between this apartment and your work desk, they’re not exactly tidy, are they? You have your books all over the place, these Funko Pops could use a display cabinet, the shoes in the entryway are essentially a pile. And I remember you have a dozen half-used supplies on your desk. If this keeps up, our place will be a mess, too.”

Rey gasps. “Oh, my god!”

Ben looks at her again, an eyebrow raised. “You look… mad. Why are you—”

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god!” she unwinds her legs from his waist and jumps from the couch. “Our place will be a mess, Ben?” she fixes her bra and then snatches her pants from the couch. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Color drains out of his face in an instant as though he’s just realized his mistake. “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me!” she pulls up her pants and angrily puts on her t-shirt, not caring that it’s inside out. “You don’t—you don’t want me to mess with your ‘aesthetic’, do you? Worried I’ll turn your house into a color-vomit garbage disposal?”

“It’s—” he shuts his eyes for a moment. “— _our_ house, Rey.”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like it!” she crosses her arms.

Ben sighs and gets to his feet, groaning as he shoves his _very_ strained underwear back to his jeans. “Look, Rey,” he says. “We need a system. And I think your habit of ho— _scavenging_ stuff isn’t a system. It won’t do us any good.”

 _“My_ habit?” she narrows her eyes. “How about yours? I don’t seem to recall criticizing your tendency to throw away good, salvageable things like they’re worthless?”

“They don’t serve any purpose to me anymore, so I get rid of them.”

“But what if you do need them again?” she asks. “What if someday you realize you need them and you don’t have them?”

“Well, I can just buy them again.”

“Buy them again?” she repeats. “Is that it? Whenever you want something, you’d just _buy_ a new shiny thing?”

“Yes,” he replies, the muscle under his eye twitching. “It’s a better solution than keeping stuff for ‘someday.’ Stuff you, by the way, willingly got rid of once there was the threat I wouldn’t make you come until you decided. You basically _admitted_ you don’t need any of this stuff. I thought that meant you realized you’re a—” He stops his rant short, eyes widening.

Rey scoffs. “What am I, Ben?”

“You…” his voice trails off. “You…”

“Say it.”

He turns his face away, eyes screwing shut like it pains him to say it. But he does it anyway.

 

* * *

 

“You. Hoard. Stuff, Rey.”

His voice is almost a whisper when he says ‘stuff’ and ‘Rey’, all the power blown out as he slowly opens his eyes, watching her angry expression deepen. He feels like a petulant child, like when he used to defend himself to his mother, knowing full well he had already lost. Except, this time, Ben knows he’s telling the truth and sometimes, the truth hurts.

He doesn’t dare to speak or meet her piercing gaze, hoping she’ll fill the silence and speak first. But after what feels like a long time, she is still quiet. Ben worries that he’s made an irreparable mistake.

Even though they’ve squabbled a lot during their two-and-a-half-year courtship, Ben has never said anything mean to her. Well, he _thinks_ —she might disagree because he’s probably one of the most socially inept people in the world—but he’s never set her off this badly before. Other people, sure. Before Rey he was basically a nightmare to his coworkers all the time. But he’s trying to get better. He’s tried to voice his opinions without being too vicious—at first, only with Rey because in all honesty, _no one_ in Jed-I Tech. deserves his restraint. No one but Rey.

But now, it seems he’s hurt her deeply. Playing the conversation back in his mind, he sounds like a complete ass, like his lifestyle gives him the moral high ground.

His stomach churns at the possibility of having a real fight with her. But when he's about to say something, Rey beats him to it.

“I guess it’s true.”

He's taken aback, his arms falling to his sides. “It is?”

“It is,” she shrugs. “Finn’s told me the same thing before. And looking at… _this_ everyday, I just—well, I just don’t know where to start. All I know is I do have a problem.”

His eyes follow her as she walks to a box and pulls out an old Nokia he recognizes from earlier. “I bought this secondhand out of desperation. It didn’t even work well,” she says before looking at him. “Got cheated by the seller, so you know the tamagotchi thing wasn’t even my first experience with getting duped.”

Ben smiles at her wryly. “Babe, if that means a lot to you, then you can keep it. I’m not asking you to throw away everything.”

“It means a lot to me, alright,” she punches the button forcefully. “But I hate it. I hate it so much because it reminds me of the terrible people who lived in my old neighborhood. I never liked them, and I hate being reminded of them. And yet, for some weird reason, I cannot get rid of it.” She looks at him again, giving him a small smile. “Do you know why? Because I don’t.”

He swallows and walks toward her, immediately circling her body with his arms. “Because you want a reminder of how far you’ve come,” he says against her hair. “That’s why you always work hard. And that’s why you’re one of the brightest engineers I’ve ever met.”

He feels her small hands on his back as she nods against his chest.

"And," he continues. "This has nothing to do with that, but you're also the prettiest I've seen."

She snorts. He looks down, smiling before kissing the top of her head. Then they’re quiet for a while, just hugging each other.

He knows what the hardship she’s survived means to her. Rey was raised by an absent uncle—so absent, she was practically raising herself. She used to live in a bad part of town. Ben winced when she first told him. Her childhood was barely a childhood. It made his look incredible by comparison. They were both lonely, but in different ways.

Ben copes by getting rid of his old stuff as often as he can because the idea of being weighed down by material things makes him anxious. Every toy, book, and gadget he got as a child had only served as a distraction from the loneliness he experienced when his parents were away, or when they never stayed in one place long enough for him to make friends. And as he grew up, things did not really change much. Things are just... things. They're disposable; they come and go, just like most people in his life—and a very few he used to care enough but then made him feel like he was just a reward, a plaything to be deserted when they got bored.

It’s easier for him to throw everything away, to burn the past and never look back. To remove the physical reminder of painful memories. But Rey is different. She surrounds herself with things from her past to keep her grounded. Even though the memories are painful, she sees them as part of her.

After all, she’s taught him how to care about other things in life, how to be kind to himself, to his belongings—something he’s been struggling since adolescence. As cheesy as it sounds, he’s become a better man because of her. And she does all of that without losing any part of herself. She’s feisty and bold and compassionate. The only woman he’s ever loved this badly.

He is a goner, undeniably hers. And soon, he hopes, although Ben hasn’t showed her the ring yet, it’s for the rest of their lives.

He stares at the boxes, recognizing some of them as junk they have to get rid of. But in retrospect, he should’ve been more gentle about it. They could use the attic to store her ‘someday’ projects, maybe. Ever since he went full-on minimalist five years ago, he hasn’t needed many rooms in his house.

“Alright,” he feels her head move. When he looks down, she’s already staring at him. “I’ll get rid of this junk.”

“Baby, maybe we should approach it different—”

“No, this is the time,” she shakes her head. “I need to let go of things I don’t need anymore.”

Ben bites his cheek, staring at her. There's no hesitation in her eyes. Only determination.

“You know,” he says. “Maybe I should hold on to some stuff instead of mindlessly getting rid of everything. _Maybe.”_

Her eyes widen as she pulls back from him. “Really?” she snickers. “Mr. Benjamin ‘Throw Everything Away’ Solo is keeping stuff now?” She playfully gasps and then narrows her eyes, “Who are you? What have you done with my boyfriend?”

His heart swells at her quip. He does always enjoy their casual banter.

“It won’t be easy, though,” he says, resting his fingers on his chin, pretending to think. He then wiggles his eyebrows seductively. “You might need to _coax_ me sometimes.”

“Right,” she rolls her eyes but smiles anyway. “And you said Randy was the filthy one.”

“He _is_ filthy, and he’s also the first to go.”

“Heartless. He can hear you, you know.”

“Well good then. Isn’t that right, Randy?” he cranes his neck towards the poor rat head. “Please leave the pretty lady alone. She’s taken.”

“No room in your minimalist heart for a scrappy old rat?”

Ben shudders. “I don’t even like to use _that_ word a lot. It sounds pretentious. Plus, some people really take it to the extreme.”

“Like that guy from Into the Wild—”

“Okay, that’s not what minimalism is,” he rebuts. “That’s too much. I just have a system that actually works. Keeping only what has daily use to me—”

“—and maybe we’ll take it even further and forgo clothing altogether. Live off our own bodily fluids.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

“What, living off our bodily fluids?” Rey cringes.

“No, forgoing clothing,” he replies, his eyes roaming over her. “I mean, of course, only in our home. I think we should probably start now, just to get used to it.”

She covers her chest with her hands, pretending to be shocked. “Ben Solo!”

“Actually,” he raises a finger. “That other one is not so bad either. Bodily fluids, huh?” He stares at his hand, the one which explored her body earlier, before flickering his gaze to her.

Her eyes are fixated on him as he slowly licks his fingers one by one while maintaining eye contact just to make a show for it. “I can totally get used to this, too.”

He sees her chest heaving and her eyes darkening. “You’re _filthy,”_ she whispers, licking her lower lip. “Filthier than that dumb rat head.”

“Shh, he can hear you, you know,” he leans forward and lowers his voice. She lets out a whimper as he presses against her. “Do you want to get rid of me too, sweetheart?” he whispers right against her ear, his hands trailing to her waist and squeezing her ass. “Well, too bad,” he says, steering their bodies to the couch. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well,” she swallows, taking charge and pushing him to the couch. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

He leans back, staring straight at her twinkling hazel eyes as she straddles him. Out of nowhere, she slaps his naked chest. He yelps in surprise and looks down.

Only to see a teal Post-It.

Rey cups his face and leads his gaze back to her eyes.

“You’ll never ever get rid of me.”

He grins. “Promise?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Epilogue: they get a dog and Ben proposes.~~  
>   
>  I planned this to be done in February (because this is a Valentine's Day fic, after all), but then real life got in the way. So, consider this an early White Day fic, too, if you'd like! ^^
> 
> During the writing process, I might've watched decluttering vlogs more than I actually cleaned my living space. (I mean, I'm not surprised...)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and a big thank you to my beta, [howsolocanyougo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/howsolocanyougo), as always.
> 
>    
> [My tumblr](https://rakefiree.tumblr.com)  
> [My twitter](https://twitter.com/rakefired)


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